My Preciousss
by CandyOfDOOOM
Summary: Denmark loses his ax and inflicts his bad mood on everyone else. What will become of the Nordic family? Will Iceland save the day? What is love? (Note: This is my first fanfiction, please R&R!)


"Nor, has he come out of his room yet?" Finland asked the Norwegian who lay sprawled across the couch, his face squished against a pillow.

"How would I know, and why would I care?" came his baritone answer. Finland looked nervously around the room. Did Iceland do it? He seemed a little more annoyed with the Denmark lately, then again, he had never done anything that would hurt someone to the point it affected everyone else, why would he start now? The Finn was startled by the sound of the front door slamming open. A tall blonde stood in the doorway, his glasses foggy and ice-sickles clinging to his nostrils. The blizzard howled in the background. Sweden was breathing heavily and Finland could've heard a growl, similar to that of a hungry mamma-lion, coming from the furious Swede. "If th't damned spoiled princess ever loses his ax 'gain, I'm gonn' take it 'nd imbed it h's nervous system!" (A/N: Any LoTR fans?) Finland frowned.

"We've got to find it sooner than later! Denmark is getting grumpier every minute! He's had that ax since day one, and has never lost track of it! Maybe except for that one time on our trip to the Fjords, but he just forgot it was in his hands the whole time,"

Sweden huffed. "Yeah, well, I'm not go'ng out look'ng for it in the dead 'f winter, regardless of h'w pissed he is—" out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone standing at the foot of the steps. Everyone (minus Iceland because he was taking a shower in the other room) looked over to see Denmark, his hair messier than usual, a thin beard threatening his chin, and an icy stare that could rot a whole garden was planted on his face. He slowly made his way over to where Sweden stood. He paused, staring him down, and then grabbed the Swede by his collar until they were nose to nose.

"You, sir, are going to put yer coat on, and march back outside until you find my prized possession. Even if it kills ya, got it?" his tear-stained and bloodshot eyes twitched. Sweden shoved the Dane, making him stumble a little.

"I'm n't your _maid_, y' over-grown brat!" He snapped. Denmark let out a stifled laugh and grabbed a conveniently-placed beer. He snapped the cap off with his bare teeth. Finland gulped and made a gesture towards Sweden that translated as 'RUN'.

"Ah, but you _are _my bro, right?" he chuckled and gulped down half the bottle. Wiping his face he sneered. "Don't bros do nice things fer each other? C'mon, just go out and look a little harder!" Sweden glared. Denmark's sneer turned into an ugly sob. "Seriously, bro! Y-ye don't understaaa-and!" He dropped to his knees then fell face first onto the ground, soaking the carpet with his tears. Norway rolled his eyes. Finland let out a sympathetic sigh above the Dane's weeping and broken laments like "—Since I was a little Viking— together ever since— the time when we— side by side— laughing at their screams— first Christmas together—". Iceland entered the room, his hair still wet and his puffin perched on his shoulder (of course). He paused before he entered the living room where his companions all gathered. "…Did I miss something?"

Finland turned to him. "Well, I don't know where you've been the past couple days, or if you've even noticed Denmark has been locked away in his room, and all our beer is missing." he said. "…He lost his ax."

"Ah…" Iceland looked down at the pitiful Dane. He walked over to him, dodging the broken bottle that had fallen along with him. He sucked in his gut and, in a surprisingly chirpy tone, said: "Hey, buddy~" As if he was talking to a two-year-old. "Come on, wipe those tears away," He held out his hand. Denmark looked up. He sniffled, grabbed the Icelander's hand and hoisted himself up. "Y'know, your little dilemma has put a downer on the rest of us lately," Iceland said, his voice still melodious, and a little condescending. "So, on behalf of everyone else—" The silver haired Icelander raised his hand and smacked it across Denmark's face, sending him flying into the coat closet. "—SNAP OUT OF IT, CUPCAKE."

The blonde landed with a thud. A few hangers fell onto the floor… along with his ax, landing smack-dab into the floor-boards between the shocked Dane's legs. "AXEY!" he jumped to his feet and yanked out the ax that had been wedged into the ground. He twirled around, knocking over a few items in the process (for he still hadn't sobered up). Everyone stood in confusion at the sight.

"It… w's in… the closet?" Sweden said in a fuming voice.

Finland clapped his hands together. "Congratulations, Denmark! We're happy that you've finally reunited with your, eh, ax!" an exhausted look crept onto his face. "So… very happy"

And so there it was. Everyone could finally live happily ever after…

"Oi!" yelled Norway. "Where the hell'd my hair-clip go?!"

Everyone was silent. Iceland cracked his knuckles.


End file.
